I've Never
by MuchTooHighACost
Summary: Mary, Edith, and Anna have journeyed to Ireland for Sybil's wedding, but things take an unexpected turn when the youngest Crawley sister gets her hands on some brandy. Mentions of S/B, M/M, A/B.


A huge thanks to everyone who provided such positive feedback for my first fic! What a warm welcome:) I'm back again, this time with some misadventures of the sisters Crawley and their fearless ladies maid. Please read and review, but more importantly, enjoy:)

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"But wherever did you get it?" Anna asked in dismay, looking at a positively beaming Sybil.

"An early wedding present from Mrs. Branson," answered the bride-to-be.

"It's not really a suitable drink for a lady, is it?" her ladies maid said with a mischievous smile.

But Sybil's sisters were less amused. "Well if that's the sort of mother-in-law she's going to be…" Mary teased.

"Afraid she won't measure up to Sir Richard's mother?" Edith couldn't resist the jibe.

"I don't know what you're so smug about, Edith," her older sister retorted. "It doesn't look as if you're going to have a mother-in-law anytime soon, or at all for that matter."

"Stop it, you two," Sybil chided. "It's my wedding tomorrow and I won't have you spoiling it. And since this is my last night before married bliss, I'd like us all to share this."

She held the bottle of brandy aloft like a torch, her face glowing with the delight of a child about to do something she knew no one would approve of. When she'd entered the room with tucked under her dressing gown moments before, Mary had expected that her sister had come for advice to calm her nerves about her upcoming wedding in the morning, but the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham soon learned that the youngest daughter had other plans in mind for their evening together. And she couldn't deny that she liked the idea, for some reason.

"Oh, all right," Mary agreed, and Sybil cheered.

"What about you, Edith?" she asked.

Edith looked from sister to sister, then to Anna, the only other soul from Downton who'd come to see the youngest lady of the house get married. Who else to do her hair and dress her for her wedding day besides the woman who'd done it for ten years before that? They stared back at her with pleading faces.

"Don't make this three against one," Edith sighed.

"I'm impartial, milady," Anna corrected. "It wouldn't be proper for me to—"

"It would be entirely proper," Sybil countered, surprising them all when for a moment she sounded like her grandmother. "Now we're all going to enjoy this bottle of brandy and we are not going to behave like ladies, have I made myself clear?"

Edith cracked a smile and said, "I'll get the drinking glasses."

She shuffled around the small room she and Mary were sharing for the weekend in the Branson's house and finally retrieved four crystal tumblers. "I won't tell if you won't," she said to Mary as she set them down.

"Oh? That'd be a first," Mary said.

"None of that." Sybil came between their bickering once more and opened the bottle, releasing the rich smell into the air. "We'll all make a toast," she said, pouring, "and then we're playing a game."

"A game? Dear God, not a year in Ireland and already you're playing drinking games," Mary teased.

"A toast!" Edith said, raising her glass. "To Sybil and Branson. May tomorrow be the first of many happy days of marriage together."

"Hear, hear," Anna said with a nod.

"Hear," Mary said, and they all drank. Mary had tasted brandy once before, when she was a young girl. She'd been sitting in her father's lap one evening as he looked over business at his desk. His unfinished glass of brandy sat out and she'd taken a sip, childish curiosity getting the better of her. She'd hated the taste of it then and spat it out, but now as a woman she appreciated the color of flavors, the way they sat on her tongue and swilled about in her mouth long after she'd swallowed. At last she understood why it was her father's drink of choice.

"Goodness, that's strong," Edith said, making a face, which made Mary all the more delighted that she herself enjoyed it. "Now what's this game you want to play?"

Sybil beamed, her bright eyes dancing with excitement. "Well, it's called 'I've Never.'"

"Oh, I know that one!" Anna said suddenly, surprising them all. "Thomas played it a while back to start mischief downstairs. But Mr. Carson found out, of course, and put a stop to it."

"How do you play?" Edith asked.

Anna hesitated a moment, feeling odd explaining a drinking game to the three young women she'd dressed for nearly ten years. But they all knew that they were close, and that this was no more a breach of propriety than any other aspects of their friendships they'd shared throughout the years. With an approving nod from Mary, she continued, "Well, one person starts and says something they've never done. For example, 'I've never stolen anything.' And everyone else in the circle who _has_ ever stolen something has to take a drink."

"We'll all be falling over in five minutes if we play that way with brandy," Mary assessed shrewdly, already feeling a pleasant warmth spreading throughout her stomach. "A sip, then?"

"That sounds fair," Sybil said with a nod. "Although, I should warn you, I've been playing with Tom and his brothers, so I might last longer than the rest of you."

"Dear God…" Mary sighed, and Sybil grinned with delight.

"I'll start," the youngest sister proclaimed. "I've never… been to America."

Mary took a small sip, explaining, "Mama took me once when I was just a baby, but I don't remember any of it. Anyway, we didn't stay long. Papa hated it and we came straight home."

"Anna, you next," Sybil encouraged.

"I've never… stolen anything," Anna said, using her example from before.

The sisters looked back and forth at each other, trying to remember if there was something one had stolen from the other when they were young. "Didn't Sybil…" Edith began.

"My hairpins, the Chinese hairpins Grannie bought me for Christmas!" Mary shrieked with laughter and Sybil turned crimson.

"I was seven!" she exclaimed.

"You still stole them," Mary said.

"And then denied it," Edith added.

"Oh, all right," Sybil sighed, and swilled down the rest of what was left in her glass. "Mary, go."

"I've never…" She wracked her brain and was disappointed in herself when she discovered that there was a longer list of things she _had _done. Lain with a man who was not her husband, coveted another woman's husband, sabotaged her sister's proposal, lied to her father, rejected a marriage proposal from the man she loved very dearly…

Anna noticed that Mary seemed to be in deep thought about what to say and tried to catch her eye, but before she could, Mary's eyes lit up and she said triumphantly with a look at Edith, "I've never driven a motorcar."

Edith proudly took a drink on that one, and so did Sybil, to everyone's surprise. "Tom's been teaching me," she explained.

"I've never eaten calamari," Edith said, and her sisters stared.

"Yes you have," Sybil said. "Mrs. Patmore cooks it all the time."

"Yes, but I've never eaten it," Edith said. "I hate the very sight of it. So I always slide it into my handkerchief when no one's looking."

Both her sisters drank, and then Sybil said dramatically, "I've never killed anyone." To no one's surprise, no one took a sip.

It came to be Anna's turn again, and she said, "I've never had my hair done properly for a wedding."

"Not even your own?" Mary asked with sudden concern, and then with sudden regret that she'd brought up such a sensitive topic. It had been nearly six months now that Bates was in jail, but once the initial shock and chaos had died down, none of them thought it seemed fit to ask Anna about it regularly and bring up the distress all over again. Mary knew that she took off once a month to visit him and was sure she went in her own free time as well.

But Anna didn't seem to mind Mary's question, answering, "Well it was so quick, you remember. We were in Ripon in the morning and back by tea time." They all nodded, silent for a moment as they remembered Anna's fleeting happiness.

Mary put a reassuring hand over her ladies maid's and said, "I'll make sure that for Sybil's wedding tomorrow your hair looks wonderful. I'll do it myself, in fact."

"You don't have to do that, Your Ladyship," Anna said, blushing. "I wasn't asking—"

"Nonsense," Mary said with a smile. "Consider it done."

The three sisters drank to their fancy wedding hairdos, and then Sybil teased, "Come on, now, Anna, you haven't had a drink yet."

"You'll get nothing on this girl," Mary said with a hint of pride in her voice. "She's a saint."

Anna blushed deeper than she had before. "Oh, I don't know about all that, Milady."

"Very well…" Mary said, narrowing her eyes dramatically and trying to think of something mischievous Anna might have done as a child. "I've never… run away from home. Oh, sorry, Sybil."

"Quite all right," said the youngest Crawley sister, who seemed to be handling her liquor and the joke at her expense quite well.

"Nor have I," Anna said, grinning.

"I've never cut someone's hair when I've gone cross with them," Edith tried.

"Now would I do a thing like that?" Anna asked mockingly.

"No, but Mary would," Edith said. "Remember, Mary? When Sybil was young you cut her hair because she was getting more attention than you. Mama was furious."

"I only did it because I got the idea watching you cut the hair off your poor porcelain dolls," Mary said as she begrudgingly took a drink.

"I don't remember that," Sybil said.

"Well you wouldn't, you were just a baby," Edith explained. "But Mary remembers, and I'm sure Mama does too."

"Goodness, is it my turn again?" Sybil sighed. "I've never completed a single needlepoint sampler. All those ones Grannie made me do when I was younger? I'd lose interest halfway through and give them to Mama or O'Brien to finish for me."

"Gracious," Mary sighed, finishing another glass. "I do believe I'm starting to feel this brandy."

"Me too," Edith said, her face taking on a greenish pallor.

But Anna, who hadn't taken a drink since the toast, was fit as a fiddle and offered, "If it'll make you feel better, I'll tell you something I _have _done and _I'll _drink. It'll give you wild ladies a chance to rest up."

"Go on then," said Sybil, who was faring better than her two older sisters.

"I _have_," Anna said, "lied to Lord Grantham."

"To Papa?" Edith gasped.

"Surely for a good reason," Mary said.

"Sometimes when the Dowager Countess visits she sends me to find Lord Grantham and give him a message," Anna explained, "and I always do. She wants me to tell him what she has to say so that when he meets her he's already had time to react. Only sometimes I… stretch the truth of the message. Soften the blow, as it were. I don't think he should hear bad news from me, so I tell him a little bit of what the Dowager Countess told me, and then he meets her in the sitting room and hears the rest. I'm sure they both think I'm a bit dense; I rarely relay the whole message."

"Oh, nonsense," Sybil dismissed. "Papa thinks the world of you."

"Even when she lies she does it to protect someone else," Mary said, regarding her ladies maid and—she'd come to realize over the years—dear, dear friend with a proud, respectful look.

Anna took a sip from her tumbler and wrinkled her nose.

Edith, who was now properly drunk, stared as directly as she could at Mary when she slurred, "I've never taken a lover."

"For God's sake, Edith," Mary sighed irritably, "everyone _knows _that already. It's not like you're revealing some big secret." After she'd put down her glass, she responded in an equally icy tone, "I never believed that the poor creature who came to Downton pretending to be Patrick Crawley was indeed our cousin."

Edith looked hurt, but she drank anyway, and didn't notice that Anna did too. "I've never accepted an engagement proposal from a man I didn't love," Edith said venomously.

"Oh, really? I didn't know you'd ever accepted one at all," Mary spat, "or even been offered, for that matter—"

Finally, Sybil rose to her feet and physically stood between her sisters. "Enough!" she shouted. "I didn't intend for this to turn into some contest where you two could bash each other. You seem to do that well enough on your own. I am going to marry the man I love tomorrow and I would like it if you two could stop fighting for one moment and at least pretend to be happy on the happiest day of my life."

Mary couldn't look Sybil in the eye. She knew she was right. Edith just made her so angry, got under her skin in ways that no one else could! It was like she knew just what would send Mary over the edge of the waterfall of words she wouldn't be able to take back. And the brandy wasn't helping matters either.

"Sorry, Sybil," Edith said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Mary said.

"Maybe we should all turn in?" Anna suggested. "You've got a big day to rest for."

"I think that's best," Sybil said. She finished what was left of the brandy in her glass, and slipped the bottle back under her dressing gown. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Anna."

She left, shutting the door loudly behind her. Mary and Edith exchanged an uncertain glance. They knew their bickering was something that should be kept strictly between them, and that it had always upset Sybil greatly.

"I'll go talk to her," Mary said with a sigh, and followed her youngest sister out of the room.

"It seems I've gone and ruined everything, as usual," Edith sighed.

"You mustn't be so hard on yourself," Anna told her.

"Mustn't I?" Edith asked, and for a moment she reminded herself of Mary. "I'm afraid I don't know who else to blame for my blatant lack of manners and personality."

"That, Lady Edith, is the brandy talking," Anna said firmly. "You really want to play I've never? I've never picked one of you ladies off the floor after too many drinks, but I've done it plenty of times before with my father and brothers, in another life, and I know that only the drink makes you say things like that about yourself that aren't true."

Edith looked up hopefully at her ladies maid. "You really are remarkable, you know that?"

Anna smiled and looked down at the floor. "Thank you, Lady Edith. Come now, let's get you ready for bed."

"Sybil?" Mary knocked tentatively on the door down the hall. The Branson family had graciously abandoned their own sleeping quarters to accommodate Sybil and the small contingent of her family, and were all making due sharing one bedroom and sleeping on various couches throughout the modest but beautiful Irish country house.

"Go away," Sybil's voice came back through the wood of the door, and even through the murky haze of brandy, Mary felt the sting in her sister's words.

"Sybil darling, please," she tried again. "I want to apologize."

"I don't want to hear it," came the reply.

"Don't you think you're being a bit childish?" Mary snapped, irritated now.

At this, the door flung open and Mary stumbled to regain her footing for a moment. Sybil stood in the doorway, her dark eyes hot coals of anger. "_I'm _being childish? Mary, as the youngest of three daughters I'm the one who's managed to find a husband who makes me happy _and_ make a life for myself, all without the help of Grannie or Papa, and certainly without you and Edith. I'd say I'm the least childish of all of us."

Even in her unsure state, Mary knew Sybil was right. She thought back to her first turn of the drinking game, and how there was hardly anything scandalous she could think of that she _hadn't _done. Shame washed over her. Shame that she hadn't been a better daughter, a better sister, a better friend. Shame that she so often got on her high horse and judged the decisions that Edith and Sybil made when they could much more easily do the same to her.

Ego deflated, she sighed, "What can I say?"

"That you're horrid for ruining tonight, for a start," Sybil said with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm horrid and you're going to look lovely tomorrow." Mary squeezed her sister's hand and allowed herself a moment of sentiment. "Our little darling, getting married, and first of us all. Who would have thought it, really?"

"There is something I wanted to ask you," Sybil said, suddenly seeming nervous now, "about tomorrow."

Mary's heart caught in her throat and she had a feeling she knew what this was about. Instantly sober, she followed her sister into the room and closed the door behind them. Then, with uncertainty, she began to speak. "I know Mama certainly hasn't prepared you for what's going to happen on your wedding night, and God knows Grannie—"

"What?" Sybil interrupted. "I'm not—"

"And I hate that I'm the one who's left to give you advice about this, especially considering that I myself am not married," Mary continued, heedless of her sister's interruption, "but who knows? Maybe someday we won't have to have this discussion with our daughters because things will have changed by then—"

"Mary, that's not what I'm talking about at all!" Sybil exclaimed, giggling.

Mary paled. "It's not?"

"No, of course not. Mama already wrote me all about it," Sybil said with a groan. "It was more than I ever wanted or needed to hear from her about that."

"Dear God…" Mary heaved a sigh of relief, glad that she was no longer faced with acquainting her baby sister with the facts of life.

"I wanted to ask you something different," Sybil said, taking a deep breath. "I know that it was a long way to come and I don't begrudge Mama and Papa for not being able to make it, especially with Mama getting over her illness. But without them here, I've no one to give me away, you see."

The realization struck Mary so suddenly that she gasped. "Oh, Sybil…" She hadn't even thought of it before.

"No, no, it's all right. I've got an idea," Sybil said, her eyes glowing. "Normally Papa would do it, but I thought that since you're here… maybe you could give me away?"

"Absolutely," Mary answered at once. "I'd love to. I'd be honored. And I think—" She pushed aside her pride, knowing it was the right thing to do, "And I think Edith should as well."

"Both of you!" Sybil exclaimed. "I hadn't thought of that! What a wonderful idea!"

"We've grown up together, all three of us. God knows we couldn't protect you from everything, but we tried. And look at you." Mary looked at her sister and beamed with pride. "You're doing far better than both of us put together."

"Don't say that," Sybil said. "I think it's a lovely idea. And…" She checked to make sure the door was closed before she whispered, "I'll still have one bridesmaid to carry my flowers."

Mary furrowed her brow. "Do you mean—"

"Anna, yes!" Sybil said with a grin. "When I heard that all three of you were coming, I decided it was only fitting. She's grown up with us as well and has been such a great help. I've been helping Mrs. Branson make the third dress and I haven't told Anna yet. She'll be so pleased!"

Mary smiled. "Indeed she will."

"So you and Edith will give me away and Anna will lead us down the aisle," Sybil said, picturing the beautiful scene inside her head. She sounded like a child speaking of her fairytale and knowing that in just a few hours, it would come true.

"I am sorry that we were the only ones who came," Mary said quietly, looking down at her lap. "I know Papa might not have wanted to, but Mama certainly did. And Grannie… well, let's just say Grannie won't be travelling overseas anytime soon, but she did send her love."

"Mary, it's all right," Sybil assured her. "Tomorrow's going to be the happiest day of my life. I wouldn't change a thing about it. Not a thing."

Edith was sighing softly on her cot when Mary re-entered the room and Anna sat at the table, finishing a letter in the dim light of the lamp.

"How is she?" she asked quietly, knowing that whispers and sotto voce wouldn't wake Edith.

Mary shook her head. "Just as a soon-to-be-bride should be: excited, short-tempered, and a little tipsy. Who are you writing to?"

"John," Anna answered, folding the letter and placing it in her dress pocket.

"Of course," Mary said, feeling embarrassed. "How silly of me. I hope he's… well." She winced at her poor word choice, but Anna didn't comment. As always, she found something positive to say about the situation.

"He's glad Lord Grantham has found a proper lawyer for him, because we wouldn't have been able to afford one on our own."

"Papa will be glad to hear it." Mary began taking off her gloves and instinctively Anna moved to help her. "God, this day feels as if it's lasted forever." They'd left Downton for the train station as the sun rose, taken the earliest train to the coast, and from there taken a boat to Dublin, where a car had been waiting to drive them to the Branson's home an hour outside the city. It was now well past midnight and Mary was stiff and tired from traveling, and she knew that the cots they had all been given wouldn't offer much reprieve from her aching.

As Anna helped her into her nightgown, Mary noticed that the tumblers of brandy still sat on the small wooden table where they'd left them.

"One more round?" she asked, picking up two glasses and giving one to Anna.

"It couldn't hurt," the maid answered with a twinkle in her eye.

"I've never had a better or truer friend than you," Mary said, looking Anna in the eye. "Truly."

Anna smiled, looking like she might cry. "Nor I you," she said quietly.

They clinked their glasses together in a silent toast to them and finished what was left of the amber liquid.


End file.
